The Blame Game
by Row93
Summary: It's nice, Tim supposes, to have no crazy murder sprees going on for once. He feels almost…normal. Like he's a nice normal high school student, collecting his stuff from his locker, having a nice normal geeky conversation with his nice normal classmate. Very mundane. or Stuff keeps happening to Tim and its. not. his. fault.
1. Jason

My first (posted) fanfiction since a loooong time. I'm totally back in a DC Comics mood.

Kinda mixing up all kinds of timelines for this one. Pre-new 52, Rebirth whatever. I just like having all the batkids semi living together in the Manor.

* * *

It's nice, Tim supposes, to have no crazy murder sprees going on for once. He feels almost…normal. Like he's a nice normal high school student, collecting his stuff from his locker, having a nice normal geeky conversation with his nice normal classmate. Very _mundane_. Yes. It's nice to be able to relax a little and actually do things that don't have an ulterior motive. Unless you'd count pleasing Alfred by 'taking part in normal adolescent activities' as ulterior motive. But whatever. It's why he has actually invited Liam Newburg, lover of all things science fiction and fellow algebra student, over to watch a movie at the manor.

"He never died, he crawled out of the sarlacc pit." Tim tells his classmate as he pulls his algebra book from his locker, "You should catch up on the extended universe."

Convincing Liam that Boba Fett is the single greatest Star Wars character ever turns out to be almost on par with solving one of Batman's open cases.

Liam gives him an incredulous look then proceeds to cram more books into his backpack. "Please don't tell me your butler is picking us up." he says, wisely changing the subject, "Cause that would be, I dunno, kinda awkward."

Tim can't help but grimace a little at that. Sometimes he hates the rich kid image that comes with being a Wayne. Or a Drake. Both last names kinda suck in that aspect really.

"Nah. I've got my own ride." He swings his backpack over his shoulder, "Mind if we make a little stop on the way? I gotta pick something up at my br-friend's place."

He keeps forgetting that Jason is still legally dead. They should really do something about that these days. Especially now that that Jay is back on speaking terms with Bruce. More or less…

Liam is only mildly impressed by Tim's car which is a bonus and they switch from discussing Star Wars characters to whichever Star Trek show was the best one as they drive through Gotham. Once again Tim finds that he has an unpopular opinion, but dammit, he won't let anyone tell him that Voyager wasn't the BEST Star Trek show out of them all.

By the time they arrive at Jason's apartment building they've agreed to disagree.

"You have a friend that lives _here_?"

Tim eyes the run-down building and shrugs, "He says the rent is cheap." And that the landlord is easy to bribe, but he doesn't say _that_ part out loud.

He parks the car and gets out.

"I'll be right back, should only take a minute." He gestures for Liam to wait in the car and lets himself into the building with a set of keys that he has absolutely not copied without permission and heads up the stairs. He texted Jay this morning that he'd swing by and usually around this time his brother will be catching up on sleep. Lucky bastard doesn't even have to pretend to have a day job. Or sit through classes. Perks of being dead.

He's about to unlock Jason's front door when he notices its open. Strange. He nudges the door further open carefully and takes a peek-

"Hey, replacement." Jason greets him way to cheerfully.

He's dressed in sweats and his hair on one side is sticking up in all directions. He looks like he just woke up, but more importantly, he's holding someone, or several someones, at gunpoint just out of Tim's view.

Tim just drops his head back and lets out a bone-weary sigh. "Fuck my life."

"Excuse me. You're not the one facing this piss poor assassination attempt." Jason retorts, vaguely gesturing with his guns, "On three?"

Of course. Of _course _he can't have a normal afternoon. What was he even expecting? He's part of the most dysfunctional family in existence.

"Ugh, fine. Whatever." Tim says and gets in a fighting stance, "Just..try to keep the shooting to a minimum? I've got a friend waiting for me."

"Sure thing. One-"

Tim doesn't wait for three, and instead kicks the door open with so much force that the assailants barely have a chance to respond. There's four of them, wearing black, lower parts of their faces hidden behind cloth. Carrying not-quite-army-grade-guns so he mentally classifies them as not-quite-supervillain-grade enemies.

Jason catches on to his tactic pretty quick and shoots the one closest to Tim in the leg with his right gun while expertly hurling his left gun full in the face of the assailant furthest to his left. Then he launches himself at the one in the middle while Tim makes use of the confusion by vaulting over shot-in-the-leg-guy and bodily tackling the one that's left to the ground.

"What the hell you do this time?" Tim grunts out between punches, "Ruffle some mob boss's feathers again?"

Jason grins as he slams his elbow in his opponents face. He can feel the crack of breaking bone.

"Fuck if I know."

His opponent goes down. Splayed on the floor next to the other one. Tim gives left-over guy one last kick in the ribs. Then they both turn on shot-in-the-leg-guy who immediately raises his hands in surrender. The whole thing has taken them less than a minute.

"I give up!"

"Yeah, that's not how this works, buddy. " Jason says, grabbing him by his collar and slamming him into the wall. Right next to his open front door and Liam who's standing there with his mouth hanging open so far it almost looks comical.

Jason says, "Who the fuck are you?" at the same time as Tim says, "Shit."

Liam doesn't say anything, but slowly takes a step back, his eyes flitting around the room.

"Uhm, I can explain?" Tim offers, trying very hard to ignore the blood dripping in little splats from his fists on an unconscious face. It's quite possible that Liam has seen the entire ordeal. And that would mean biiiiig trouble…

Jason lets out a chuckle while keeping shot-in-the-leg-guy in a choke hold, "Well this is awkward."

"I.. I heard a gunshot." Liam stammers out and Tim narrows his eyes at Jason who shrugs like he doesn't give a damn that they've basically blown their identities.

"Liam, I promise I'll explain everything," Tim says, holding up his hands in what he hopes is a placating manner, his mind already going through all the contingency plans for situations like this, "It's just..."

And he honestly has no clue how to continue that sentence. If he'd been alone against one man he could have chalked his fighting skills up to self defence training and a healthy dose of luck. But there's no way he can talk himself out of three unconscious men and his crazy brother threatening a fourth. Bruce is gonna kill him...

From the corner of his eye he sees Jason wink at him.

Uh oh.

"What my little bro is trying to say," Jason says as he releases his hold on the man he's choking, letting the poor bastard slide to the floor with a _whumpf, _"Is that I'm the Red Hood. And short stack here is known as Red Robin."

Tim can't do anything but guffaw as his brother calmly walks over Liam and drapes an arm over his shoulders. Like he hasn't just admitted to a high school student that he's a trigger happy lunatic who occasionally shows his good side. Liam on the other hand, looks anything but calm. Uncomfortable would be the understatement of the century. He looks ready to run, cry and faint at the same time. Kinda how Tim feels right now actually.

"What the _fuck, _Jason?" he manages to ground out.

He's so deep into trouble that he'll be grounded until old age. Bruce is never gonna let him leave the Manor for the rest of his _life._ Bruce isn't gonna kill him. That would be a mercy. He's gonna fake his death and pretend like Tim Drake doesn't exist anymore, while keeping him in the darkest, loneliest part of Wayne manor until he won't remember his own name. And it's all Jason's fault.

Liam lets out a strangled sound that is both disturbing and painfully accurate applied to the situation at hand. He points a shaking finger at Tim.

"You're.._Red Robin?_"

"Uhm. I'm not supposed to.. Uhm. Yes?"

Deepest, darkest, coldest cellar in Wayne manor. How could he ever believe that he could have a normal day?

"You worry too much, Timbo."

Jason doesn't seem to give the impending consequences of their predicament a second thought. Instead he nonchalantly pulls a syringe out of his pocket and proceeds to jam it into Liam's neck. The teen's eyes widen for a second and then drift shut. Only Jason's arm is stopping him from flopping to the floor like a sack of flour.

Tim on the other hand is torn between bursting into tears and laughing hysterically. He ends up making a sound somewhere in between the two until Jason snaps his fingers under his nose.

"Earth to baby bird."

Tim blinks slowly back into existence and his eyes focus on Jason with a _snap. _

"I'm screwed. I am _so _screwed. This is all _your _fault. With your stupid ass open door policy to criminals. If I'm gonna be dead to the world and locked into the Manor forever I'm taking you down with me. You're already dead anyway. We can share water and bread for the rest of all eternity-" judging by Jason's barely concealed glee he's babbling. Dick says he does that when he's nervous or stressed. Fuck that. He's _beyond _stressed at this point. He's on the verge of a goddamn mental breakdown.

"Geez, Tim, take it easy. I'm not that big of an idiot." Jason says, as he lowers Liam to the floor with more care then Tim thought he had in him. Then he moves to the closest tug and starts tying him up with some zip ties he seems to have procured out of thin air.

"I dosed your friend with a new concoction. Works pretty fast and effects only short-term memory. He won't remember the last thirty minutes or so when he wakes up. I'll do the same to these assholes. They came for the Red Hood, just happened to catch me at a bad time. Our precious identities are safe." Jason says, while tying up his attackers one by one.

"Screw you." Tim says because he can.

Jason takes a moment to look at his handywork, before sighing deeply and dragging a hand through his now thoroughly mussed up hair, "I liked this fucking apartment. Just got all my books moved here too. Now I've gotta set up another false name."

He turns to look at Tim, "Can you let Alf know I'm coming over for a few nights? Seems I'm between places again."

Tim narrows his eyes at his brother before moving to Liam and lifting him over his shoulder with a grunt, "Call him yourself.", then he fishes the copied keys from his pocket and throws them at Jason's face, "Guess I don't need these anymore."

Jason barely manages to snatch them out of the air and frowns when he looks at what he's holding in his hand. The he levels a glare at Tim that is meant to be disapproving but doesn't entirely hide the layer of amusement underneath.

"You little shit. When did you do this?"

Tim is already half way out the door with his classmate's arms dangling against his back. He doesn't even look behind him as he flips Jason off and stomps out of the apartment.

Later, after he has successfully wrestled Liam into his car and is already half way home the Manor, he tells a very groggy classmate that he fell asleep. Must be the stress from school. They manage to watch the first part of the Bourne Trilogy before Liam excuses himself because of a headache and Tim may feel the barest hint of guilt about that. But all in all, it's not a total waste of a free afternoon.

It's even worth it when he's woken up at 2 am by Jason angrily yelling his name from the bedroom next to his. Yes, Tim thinks as he pulls his covers further up, a grin on his face. Maybe a waste of 17 rolls of cellophane, but definitely not a waste of a free afternoon. Revenge is sweet.


	2. Dick

Hey look, I have another chapter! I totally forgot to upload it here, since I mostly use AO3 these days.

But enjoy some more sillyness.

* * *

"Uuuuggghhh…" Tim says.

First he was too hot. Now he's too cold. His blanket is tangled around his legs because he tried to kick it off when he was too hot but now his feet are stuck. He pretty sure his fever is rising and his stomach is not happy with him at the moment. Life without a spleen sucks.

"huuugghhffhhh." He says again to no one in particular.

From the other side of the den Dick lowers his comic book and sighs, "What is it this time?"

Tim makes sure to groan enough to make it known how miserable he feels as he rolls over to his side to face his older brother. Then he pointedly shifts his eyes to his tangled-up blanket and back to Dick.

"Really, Tim?" Dick says, but he gets up anyway to untangle the blanket and cover Tim's shivering form once again. When he tries to feel the teen's forehead his hand is batted away.

"I think your fever's getting worse."

Tim just rolls his eyes at him. He already figured that out an hour ago when he started feeling hot and cold at the same time. But instead of telling Dick that he pokes one hand out from his blanket and makes a drinking motion. Then he quickly pulls it back because it's cold in the den. At least he thinks so. His internal temperature is a little screwed up at the moment.

"Words, little brother. Use your words." Dick grumbles even though Tim knows that Dick knows perfectly well what Tim means. Dick is pretty much fluent in Tim-speak.

Tim coughs in his hand then says "Fuck you." in a barely audible whisper before turning his back on his brother.

"You're mean when you're sick." Dick whines, "Want some tea or just water?"

Tim's shrug is barely visible from under his blanket, but he hears Dick's footsteps leave the room anyway. He dozes a bit until he hears Dick put down a glass with a _clunk _on the side table next to him. Then a finger pokes his back.

"Wake up, Timmy. I brought you juice."

Tim doesn't want juice. He also doesn't want Dick hovering over him like a mother hen. So he ignores the poking and feigns sleep. But Dick was the first bird to be trained by the world's greatest detective so he sees through his act pretty fast.

"Tim." Dick says, "You can't give me the silent treatment all day."

Tim raises his head and gives Dick a glare over his shoulder that says _watch me,_ before pulling the blanket all the way over his head. It results in having his feet poking out on the other side but it's a sacrifice he's willing to make. After about a minute it becomes a bit hard to breathe though, so he lifts the blanket a little bit to create an air hole.

"Fine. Don't talk to me then." Dick sighs.

For a second Tim thinks that Dick is actually going to leave him alone until he feels a pull on his blanket. He tries to hold on to it for dear life but being sick has made his muscles feel like jello and the only thing he can do is make a weak whining sound as his brother pulls the blanket away from his face and back over his feet. Dick then pulls him into a sitting position and places the juice in his hands.

"Drink." He orders.

Tim glares at him for a full minute before finally giving in and slowly sipping from the juice, pointedly ignoring the look of triumph on Dick's face. He gets about halfway through the glass when his stomach decides its enough. With shaking hands he places the glass back on the side table and lies back down, closing his eyes as he tries to breathe through a wave of nausea.

It's not working.

Dick must have realized that too because as soon as Tim shoots up from his laying position, a look of desperation on his face, a bucket is shoved in his hands.

He feels one hand holding back his hair and another rubbing circles on his back as he empties his stomach. As his retching turns into dry heaving he hears Dick give an awkward chuckle.

"Look at that. You could almost put it back in the glass."

Tim would have laughed at his brother's dry tone, but he's too busy with laying back down and taking deep breaths, trying to get his shaking body under control. The vomiting has taken the last bit of energy out of him and right now he's slowly sinking into that nice floating sensation of relief after throwing up. Distantly he hears the bucket being taken away. He's not sure he's entirely awake when Dick hold a glass of water to his lips so he can rinse his mouth.

As he feels a hand gently carding through his hair he whispers, "This is all your fault" to Dick before drifting off to sleep.

.

Later he's dimly aware of someone carrying him to his room and tucking him into his bed. He's not sure if its Dick or Bruce. He's too tired to care either.

.

The second time Tim wakes there are voices outside his door.

"_He'll be fine without you, Dick. Alfred will take of him. I need you on patrol._"

That's definitely Bruce. He would recognize the low timbre in his voice anywhere.

"_I know…. I just feel guilty because I know he caught if from it me. I knew I was still sick and should have steered clear from him_. _It always hits him so much harder._"

That has to be Dick. Tim may feel the slightest bit of guilt about the hard time he's been giving him.

"_There's nothing to feel guilty about. These things tend to happen when you lose a spleen. Now go get changed. I'll check on Tim and then join you."_

He hears Dick's footsteps fade in the hallway and then his door opens slowly. Bruce can move without making a noise if he wants to, the fact that he isn't lets Tim know that he wants to announce his presence. So he turns around in his blanket burrito to face his adoptive father.

"Huuuffggh" he says by way of greeting.

He feels the bed dip as Bruce sits on the edge. Then a hand brushes some strands of hair away from his face, before settling on his shoulder, "That bad?" Bruce asks.

Tim just lets out a _hmm _that could be interpreted as confirmation or as just another groan of misery.

"I'm taking Damian and Dick on patrol with me."

Tim's eyes have drifted shut again as he feels the weight leave his matrass. He dips his head in a faint nod.

"Alright, drink enough fluids."

He nods again, then feels Bruce's fingers gently brush his forehead, "Let Alfred know if you start feeling worse. He'll bring you some meds later."

Tim burrows himself deeper in his blanket burrito. Bruce's footsteps make it till the door, then he _feels _rather then hears the man turn around once more.

"And maybe you should cut Dick some slack." Bruce says before the door closes.

Tim waits until he's absolutely sure that Bruce has left the room before pulling his hand free from his blanket burrito and raising his middle finger to where Bruce was standing before.

.

Tim's revenge plan the next day is simple. Sneak into the cave, add some itching powder to Dick's motorcycle helmet, sneak back out. He waits until Bruce has taken Damian and Dick on patrol once again. Alfred comes by to check on him then heads to bed himself. Then he waits a bit longer.

When Tim is absolutely sure the Manor is quiet, he wraps a blanket around his shoulders like a cape and slips out of bed. He's been asleep on and off for the past twenty-four hours, finally breaking his fever, so he feels a little better. But the trek towards the cave takes him longer then he wants because his body is still sore all over and his muscles are stiff from laying in bed all day. He's forced to sit down several times to catch his breath. But he makes it down to the cave eventually.

Cracking the code to Dick's locker is a piece a cake, because his brother is a sentimental sob and hasn't changed his code once since Tim has first entered the cave. He can't help the juvenile grin breaking out on his face as he rubs a handful of itching powder into the lining of Dick's helmet. Jason would be proud.

Tim's in the process of getting rid of the evidence when he hears the roar of the batmobile in the distance.

Uh oh.

There's no way he's gonna make it all the way up the stairs in his state. So its time for plan B. Pretend to have snuck down here to work on some cases because he got bored. Which is honestly not even that far from the truth.

He settles himself in front of the batcomputer with his blanket around him and pulls up some files. Then he shuffles some papers around to make it look like he's been going over notes. To add a final touch he runs his hands through the mess that is his hair to make it look just crazy enough. By the time the batmobile rolls to a stop Tim looks like he has been there for hours. He's counting on Bruce causing a ruckus as soon he finds Tim's sick butt in the cave, hopefully providing him with a getaway before Dick finds his helmet.

Tim is not disappointed.

He can't help letting out a _squawk_ of surprise as he swivels his chair around and finds the Batman looming over him at his full height. He didn't even hear Bruce getting out of the car.

"_Timothy Jackson_" Bruce growls, still using his Batman voice.

Tim winces at the use of his middle name, shrinking back in the chair as far as he can. Bruce acting the stern parent can be frightening. Batman using the disappointed parent voice is downright _terrifying._ From behind Bruce he can see Dick giving him a look of sympathy and once again he feel a twinge of guilt. But it's too late now.

"You're going back upstairs _right now_."

Tim's about to protest, put on a good show, but as soon as he gets up a spell of dizziness hits him and he has to sit back down. On the other side of the cave he can hear Damian huff. He makes a mental note to add Damian to his list of revenge pranks.

Bruce gives him all but five seconds to shake off the dizziness before he grabs Tim by his arm and marches him towards the stairs. And maybe, just maybe that's a good thing, cause Tim's pretty sure that he wouldn't have been able to make it back to his bed by himself at this point.

As he's being walked up the stairs he looks over his shoulder, giving Dick his sly grin that Jason calls his I'm-a-little-shit-grin, before leaning more heavily into Bruce. He can hear Dick choke behind him as Bruce slings an arm over his shoulders to support more of his weight.

The last thing Tim hears before exiting the cave is Dick sputtering, "Bruce. _Bruce. _He did something. Don't buy into his act!"


	3. Damian

It's almost a year later, but I finally finished up this one thats been sitting on my laptop for ages.

Enjoy!

* * *

Luck, it seems, is not on Tim's side.

Maybe it was on his side in the past, when he just started out as Robin and blundered his way through perilous situations, somehow coming out of them alive every time. But clearly the universe has decided to balance it out again.

Or he's just being dramatic. But he'll never admit that.

"I can't believe Father sent _you_ pick me up." Damian says, and somehow the kid manages to pack all his disappointment, disgust and anger in that one word. Being dramatic, is seems, is a family trait.

"Shouldn't have gotten your ass grounded then." Tim tells him by way of greeting and next to him a mother shields her daughters ears and gives him a stern look at the use of his language. Oops.

He gives the lady an apologetic half grin then looks around the school parking lot, noticing that several children give Damian a wide berth.

Intriguing.

"What exactly did you do?"

Damian gives him a glare that should have been menacing, but the effect is taken away by the school uniform he's wearing and the backpack dragging on the ground. Tim would almost go so far to say that the little brat looks endearing. But he has a set of scars on his arm that stops _that_ train of thought pretty quickly.

"Nothing they didn't deserve." Damian grumbles and Tim decides that maybe now is not the best time to prod him for answers. The lady next to him is giving him a side eye again.

"Riiight." He says instead, then starts steering Damian away by his shoulders, "Car's back at my school, let's walk."

Damian, to his credit, only shrugs off his hands with a short, "Don't touch me, Drake."

It's an improvement.

They walk in silence for a while, because Tim knows better than to try to engage the demon brat in conversation when he's in a mood. But that doesn't stop him from pointing out some vintage cameras displayed in a store window they pass.

"Whoa, look at these beauties," he whistles, and he stops to get a better look at them. Once, when he still had time for hobbies, photography was his way to unwind. He hasn't actually used his camera in ages. The last time he touched it was when he moved into the manor after his dad's death.

Behind him Damian just _humphs. _

Tim ignores him and takes his time admiring the cameras and other photography tools.

When he turns back around Damian is gone.

Well shit.

Dread immediately starts pooling in his stomach. Not for Damian. Okay maybe a little bit. But mostly for himself. Because, fucking hell, Bruce is gonna skin him alive if he finds out that Tim let Damian sneak off while he's grounded.

He starts looking around frantically, trying to spot the brat's school blazer, but he doesn't see it anywhere.

Then he hears Damian hiss, "_Drake, _get over here." from the alley next to the shop and he lets out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. He wants to chew out Damian for disappearing on him, but as he rounds the corner all words leave his mouth.

Damian is sitting on his knees, his back towards Tim. He's holding something in his hands but Tim can't see what it is. When he walks up to his little brother he can _hear _it though.

Tiny pathetic mewls.

Damian is cradling a kitten in his arms. It's looks filthy and underfed. It's also purring and butting it's tiny nose against Damian's hands. And _uuughh _Tim is utterly powerless when the kid turns his big green eyes on him and says, "She needs my help."

He squats down next to Damian and carefully holds out a hand for the kitten to sniff. She shrinks back at first but then stretches her neck and headbutts his hand. Tim grins a little, "Alright sure, we'll take her. But you get to explain to Bruce and Alfr-"

A fist connects with his temple and his vision swims. His arms are forcefully pulled behind his back and before he can make a sound a piece of duct tape is slapped over his mouth. From the corner of his eyes Tim can see Damian undergoing the same treatment and he can't help but sigh through his nose. Another day, another attempt at kidnapping one of the Wayne heirs.

A needle is jammed into his neck and the last thing he thinks before he passes out is _fuck the universe_.

.

When Tim comes to, he's in an empty warehouse. He blinks a few times, shaking of the lingering haze from whatever drugs he's been dosed with. He doesn't have to move his hands to know that they've been bound. He looks up to find Damian staring at him. It's disconcerting and comforting at the same time.

"Finally." his little brother says and Tim huffs.

"Not everything is a competition, ya know?" he says, then sits up to fully take in their surroundings. It's dank. It's cold. It's empty. Probably nice and remote too. Just their run of the mill kidnapping location.

"I already turned the 'kidnapped as civillians' beacon on." Damian says offhandedly, his attention focused on a bulge in his shirt that's...moving.

"You brought the baby cat?" Tim hisses and if his hands weren't tied up he would have extremely facepalmed like that one meme with the guy and the hand sticking out the back of his head. But he has to settle for a glare instead.

Damian carefully cradles the bump in his shirt and gives him a look, somehow managing to look smug about the fact that he already freed his hands and incredulous at Tim's obvious stupidity about leaving a kitten at the same time. Tim just huffs and starts working on freeing his own hands. He will probably never fully understand Damian's extremes.

He pulls his hands free with a triumphant noise just as their kidnappers enter the room, then quickly shoves then behind his back again and shifts his expression to I'm-a-scared-rich-kid. From the corner of his eye his can see that Damian has decided not follow his lead, as usual, and that he has chosen to scowl at their attackers instead. It almost looks terrifying, but the tiny mews coming from his shirt negate it somewhat. Tim almost wishes he could capture this truly accurate picture of Damian Wayne before he remembers he's playing a kidnap victim.

Instead Tim focuses on their kidnappers, who are apparently having a whispered discussion in the back of the room. He studies them for a second, notices their kidnapper-y clothes (black clothes, ski masks, left one is taller than the right one) and decides they shouldn't be too much trouble for whoever is coming to rescue them. He hopes its Jason. Their trigger happy brother has a special love for taking down child abductors. He can't help a snort escaping as he thinks about it.

Tall guy's head snaps to him and Tim quickly lowers his head in a submissive pose.

He hears the footsteps coming to him before his chin is grabbed by a gloved hand and he's forced to look at the face covered in a ski mask. It looks pretty dirty up close. And it smells.

"Think this is funny do ya? You little Wayne _shit._"

And oh, how Tim's free hands are itching behind his back.

"Leave my brother alone!" Damian shrieks, and it sounds so un-Damian that both Tim and the kidnapper turns their heads. Tim catches the gleam in his little brothers eyes though and all he can think is _the little fucker _before tall guy lets go of his chin, grins at Damian and brings his fist down on Tim's face.

_Ow._

Tim's head reels and he can feel his left eye starting to swell. He vaguely hears Short guy calling Tall guy back and another whispered discussion ensues. He blinks away the stars dancing in his eyes and dares a glance at Damian next to him.

"Apologies", his little brother whispers, not sounding sorry at all, "But I had to protect Artemis."

It takes Tim a second to realise that Damian has already named the fucking baby cat that started this whole debacle and when he does he can't help the annoyance bubbling up in him

"We are _not _naming it _Artemis_." He hisses, "This whole shit show is _your _fault. If anything, I get to name the thing."

"She's not a _thing! _And I won't let you nam-"

Damian trails off as all the lights suddenly flicker out and the room is bathed in darkness. Tim can hear the sharp inhales of breath from their kidnappers. Ah, the sweet sound of panic. It takes only seconds before Tim spots the tell tale lights of masked eyes. No sounds of a cape, so either Red Hood or Nightwing then. There's the sound of one well placed punch and a body hitting the floor, then another. And that's it. The light turns back on.

"Heya, kiddos." Red hood says, like this is normal, which it sort of is actually, "Heard you needed some help.

"Took you long enough, Todd." Damian says, getting up. The cat has evidently also decided the danger is over and is sticking out its tiny head over the collar of his shirt. Jason looks him over, shrugs then turns his attention to Tim, who is still sitting on the floor, carefully probing the skin around his eye. It has basically swollen shut by now and he lets out a hiss of pain.

"Nice shiner." Jason says, turning Tim's face left then right, "Any other injuries?"

Tim is very much done with people touching his face and slaps away his brother's hands as he gets up. "I'm fine." He grunts, then walks over the their kidnappers. He pokes one of them with his foot. They're out cold. Tim sighs, "The media catch any wind of this yet?"

"You're in luck. Nobody noticed this piss poor attempt. They were to busy arguing to actually send out a ransom demand. Amateurs. Dickie will be here soon to clean them up. I'm tasked with taking you back to the Manor."

Jason turns his attention back to Damian, who is pretending to be busy with making sure his tiny charge is alright.

"So little D, care to explain how you two managed to get yourselves kidnapped in broad daylight? _And _pick up another flee-bag?"

Damian looks up, shrugs and says "Not particularly. I would prefer to the explain the situation myself to Father. Not let's go shall we? Artemis needs care."

He barges past Jason and Tim, who can't do anything but follow.

.

Later, when they're home and cleaned up, Tim has to give the little demon credit for standing his ground during Bruce's interrogation of what exactly happened. They come out of it relatively unscathed. Tim with only a minor scolding of letting his little brother out of his sight and Damian with a stern warning and the promise of finding an adopter for Artemis when she's healthy. They have enough animals in the house already.

Which should have been enough to forget about the whole fiasco. But Tim will be the one walking around with a black eye for a week. And it's not in his nature to let his brothers get off easy with messing with him. So yes, _maybe_ it's a little juvenile of him, to refill all of Damian's hygiene products with mayonnaise. Maybe.

But at least they're even again.


End file.
